


like cats and dogs

by septiplier500



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Animal Play, Blow Jobs, Dry Humping, Fluff, Frottage, Kitty play, M/M, Past Abuse, Puppy Play, Safe Sane and Consensual, Scratching, sloppy blowjob, spit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 13:58:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8716555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/septiplier500/pseuds/septiplier500
Summary: “Are you smellin’ me?” Jack demands incredulously.

  And Mark wasn’t, but it doesn’t sound like a bad idea, honestly.
_After a day spent filming skits in costume, Mark and Jack head back to Jack's hotel to make further use of their accessories.





	

**Author's Note:**

> kitty!jack and puppy!mark were brought up to me recently, but i didn’t feel like going into anthro territory just yet so i did this instead! it’s all full of feels too because i’m a freak???
> 
> [Rebloggable version on Tumblr](http://septiplier500.tumblr.com/post/153661366827/like-cats-and-dogs).

They’ve spent half the day running around a local park, filming a skit to pair with a game Mark’s been playing about a dog that chases things. They’re all in Halloween costumes even though it’s only mid-August, and by the time they’re gathering up all their equipment and heading home, Tyler’s cardboard car costume and Ethan’s squirrel tail are completely destroyed.

Mark offers to drive Jack back to his hotel after dropping his crew off, even though he never had any intention of letting Jack go back unaccompanied in the first place. It’s not that he’s hiding from his friends, exactly; it’s just that he wants a little time with this for himself, while it’s still building into something he thinks could be amazing. Jack has a whole week left in LA, so they have time to talk things out and decide if this growing thing between them needs a title they can share with their friends.

Jack’s accommodations are modest since he’s been in town a week and a half already. The room has a kitchenette and a pull-out couch, but it’s the bed that Mark’s most familiar with, sheets he knows they made a mess of yesterday already replaced by the hotel’s cleaning staff.

Jack belly-flops onto the deep blue covers immediately, shoes already kicked off but socks still on. He’s still wearing a slinky black cat tail clipped to the back of his jeans, bits of grass caught in the fur from all the times Mark dragged him down, and a black hairband on his head with matching ears. One of the triangular-cut ears is flopped forward now because its base mostly broken off the band – Mark’s pretty sure that’s his fault, actually.

“Your head okay?” he asks, toeing out of his own shoes and sitting on the edge of the bed, “I think I cuffed you pretty hard, earlier.”

“I don’t _feel_ anything…” Jack reaches up like he’s going to uncover some previously unnoticed head wound, but all he finds are the ears. He laughs. “I forgot I still had these on!”

Mark reaches up and flicks his own ears, a pair of flopping brown things fitted to a band similar to Jack’s. He’s already ditched his tail, but he’s still wearing a thick, red nylon dog collar. “And here I thought we left the costumes on to be kinky,” he jokes in a low purr, waggling his eyebrows. It feels good to play-flirt with Jack and be able to _mean_ it.

Jack laughs again, touching a finger to his nose where there’s still some black paint from his nose and whiskers combo, the latter mostly wiped away during their tussling in the park. “Am I a pretty kitty?” he asks, pitching his voice higher, and Mark laughs hard as he leans down to nose Jack’s hand out of the way and kisses him.

They make out just like that for a long time, even though the angle is all wrong and they’re mostly just licking at each other’s mouths, hot and a little sloppy. A lot of the sex has been like that, too – awkward and imperfect and _agonizingly good_ , tangled with laughter and random bouts of shyness that they take turns easing each other out of.

Mark’s back and neck start hurting, so he climbs farther onto the bed, Jack rolling over onto his back before Mark can try to pin him on his belly. They end up play wrestling, Jack trying to get on top but Mark not willing to let him get the upper hand just yet, and Mark laughs through the entire squirmy affair because it just feels fun.

At some point, Jack crams his knee into Mark’s stomach – blessedly missing his crotch – and Mark grunts and bites him on the chest through his tshirt for his crime. He raises his head again and growls low in his throat, hands caging Jack’s wrists to stop him from fighting back, and Jack decides to stay on theme because when he protests, it’s with a loud, angry _meow_.

“Have I made kitty mad?” Mark coos in baby talk, giggling when Jack starts hissing and kicking at him. “Aw, I’m _sorry_ , kitty. I just wanted you to love me.” He bends down again, dragging the flat of his tongue over Jack’s entire face, purposefully getting spit all over him.

“Dude, _nasty_!” Jack yells, and manages to wriggle one of his wrists free. He slaps at Mark’s face, but his fingers are curled in to imitate a cat’s paw, and all he ends up doing is scratching Mark’s cheek.

Mark flinches on instinct and drops licking, sitting up on his knees to pat at the fresh slice on his cheek. Jack sits up too, cringing apologetically and maybe a little panicked, obviously feeling bad for the arguably minor cut. “I didn’t think we were getting _that_ kinky yet,” says Mark, chuckling.

“Sorry, I was only horsing around,” Jack mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously. “S'not half as bad as when Felix got Thomas,” he adds, eyeing the damage.

Mark puffs out his cheek and works his jaw for a second. “Even if it takes a few days to fade, it’ll just look like I did it filming the skit anyway,” he reassures him. He adjusts the front of his collar like he’s suavely shifting a tie, adding, “And chicks dig open wounds.”

Jack laughs, but it’s half-hearted.

“ _Jack_ , seriously, it’s _okay_ ,” Mark laughs, poking Jack in the ribs. “Quit looking like somebody dunked you in water.” Mark knows Jack’s mostly isolated back in Ireland; he doesn’t get to goof off with friends in real life all that often, so little accidents like this – an almost daily occurrence in Mark’s household, honestly – hit him harder. He remembers that anxiety, and it still crops up even for him when the elbow to face or the accidental back-hand lands on someone he’s not already super comfortable with.

It’s a sucky headspace to be in.

Impulsively trying to distract Jack from that queasy nervousness, Mark says, “If you owe me an apology for anything, it’s for giving me a _boner_.”

A long second passes in which they both stare at each other, and Mark feels like a complete idiot. Then Jack pulls a face and laughs-gasps, “ _Wwhhat_?”

Mark’s already picked the path of awkward honesty and decides to just roll with it. “One of my ex-girlfriends used to scratch me up in bed,” he says, resisting the urge to somehow turn into a rocketship and blast through the ceiling and into the atmosphere until he runs out of oxygen. “She took it too far sometimes,” he adds, rubbing a hand on his chest, “And that was part of why we broke up, but… I liked it normally.”

Jack’s expression pinballs from amused to flustered to wincingly sympathetic, and Mark’s ears are burning by the time it settles on the latter. “I’m sorry about the ex-girlfriend part,” says Jack. “Not sorry like an _apology_ ,” he clarifies before Mark can correct him, “Sorry like, I’m sorry you had to deal with somebody who didn’t respect boundaries and hurt you.”

“It was a long time ago and I’ve dealt with it, I think,” Mark says with a shrug. “And that’s not why I brought it up anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I don’t mind the uh… the scratch.”

Jack licks his lower lip briefly like he’s considering how to respond. “Good ta know,” he finally says, lifting a hand and curling his fingers into claws, pawing at the air in Mark’s direction. “Cats show their affection by kneading th’ shit outta people anyhow.”

Mark laughs and ducks his head to kiss him. Jack reaches up and gets a finger through the collar Mark already forgot he was wearing, tugging it to draw Mark down on top of him on the bed. The kiss gets dirty, Mark licking into Jack’s mouth, growling in his chest when Jack nips at his tongue. “Don’t make me bite you again,” Mark threatens against his lips.

“I’ve got all _my_ videos fer this week pre-recorded,” Jack says, grinning impishly, “An’ next week I’ve got all th’ stuff we collabed on while I was here. _I_ don’t hafta worry about scratches n’ hickeys n’ shit.”

Mark had the beginnings of a boner before, but now he’s definitely getting hard. “Hickeys are for horny high schoolers,” he lies, already mentally mapping out where he wants to start leaving them. Jack has a lot of pale, untouched skin.

“Dogs bite, Mark,” Jack says, voice husky as his eyes fall half-lidded, giving Mark’s head a little shake by his hold on Mark’s collar, “Even _good_ ones, when they’re feelin’ frisky.”

Getting out of their clothes takes some finagling around. Mark gets naked pretty easy, casting aside his dog ears, but Jack’s jeans are even tighter than Mark’s were and it ends up being a team effort to get them off. Weirdly enough, things requiring team work don’t run very well when said team is trying to multitask with making out at the same time, so it takes a ridiculous amount of time, and they don’t even bother with Jack’s shirt.

Mark shuffles down on the bed, a little regretful that Jack can’t reach to tug his collar anymore – but there’s always later for that. He doesn’t bother with his hands, just ducking right into sucking Jack’s half-erect cock into his mouth, rushing into it before he has a chance to get apprehensive. Before Jack, he’d only ever given a blowjob once, and it was a weird, awkward experience in high school with a guy who tried kicking his ass the very next day. And ironically, no matter how many phallic things you shove in your mouth for comedic value over the years, nothing prepares you for actually having a cock in your mouth like… actually having a cock in your mouth.

Mark does his best to watch Jack as he bobs his head, careful to mostly use his tongue while he’s still trying to get Jack fully hard. Jack’s not cut, so his dick is a lot more sensitive than Mark’s – though he’s found Jack likes a little teeth in his blowjobs when he’s close to coming. He laps earnestly, easing his length back out of his mouth so he can kiss down the underside, sucking lightly at his foreskin.

Jack groans, lifting his hips a little, and gets both hands into Mark’s hair. “God, yer mouth.”

Mark smirks, nuzzling into the wiry fluff of Jack’s pubic hair. “What about my mouth?” he asks, giggling silently when Jack’s hips twitch upwards again.

“Are you _smellin’_ me?” Jack demands incredulously.

And Mark wasn’t, but it doesn’t sound like a bad idea, honestly. “Isn’t that what dogs do?” he  snickers, nuzzling into Jack’s balls. He smells like crotch sweat and regular sweat and the generic blandness of dude’s shower gel, but it’s a comforting combination, masculine and familiar. “Be glad I didn’t go for your _butt_ ,” he adds, grinning as he goes back to licking Jack’s dick. This time he doesn’t bother getting the whole thing in his mouth, just flattening out his tongue and lapping wetly, playing into the dog thing because _why the fuck not_.

Jack laughs, but it’s a little strangled. “That feels so _weird_ ,” he says, but his dick is getting stiff beneath Mark’s mouth, so apparently it’s not bad weird.

Mark shifts to settle more comfortably on his belly, mindful of his own erection. The new position relies less on him holding himself up, so he slides his hands up Jack’s furry thighs, taking his time exploring all of Jack’s warm skin and how it shivers under his affectionate touch.

“ _Mark_ ,” Jack groans when Mark sucks at his balls. He tugs at Mark’s hair, gently at first, but his grip gets rough and desperate when Mark starts wetly licking at his sack. “Fuck, Mark, _enough_ ,” he growls, gritting his teeth, “Come up here b'fore I jizz all over your face, _Jesus_.”

“Seems a little risky with an open wound on my face,” Mark muses, but relents when Jack starts yanking on his hair. He kisses the head of Jack’s dick farewell, making it wet and dirty for good measure, and crawls back up the bed. “Hey babe,” he purrs when he’s eye level with Jack again.

“Hey yerself, ya big fuckin’ doof,” Jack says. He still has one hand in Mark’s hair, and he cards his fingers through it when they start kissing again.  

It’s remarkably easy to fit their hips together, Jack lifting one leg up around Mark’s waist to grind up against him. Jack’s still wet with Mark’s spit, so Mark can fuck down against him easily, groaning into his mouth when their dicks brush. It takes too much concentration to keep their thrusts consistent, so they’re mostly just rutting against whatever parts of each other they come in contact with. Jack’s much fuzzier than he is, but Mark finds he likes the tickle-scratch of his hair on the underside of his erection.

“Good?” Mark asks, nipping his way down Jack’s jaw. Jack’s beard is wiry beneath his mouth, but Mark finds that he likes that, too.

Jack laughs, breathless, and cups the back of Mark’s neck, palm warm over the tight clutch of Mark’s collar. “Ya, yer a _good dog_ ,” he says, and wraps his other arm over Mark’s shoulders, crowding him in close. “Good enough fer a scritch ‘er two, maybe,” Jack adds, his breath a hot rush on Mark’s ear, “If y’ want.”

Mark groans and bites Jack’s neck. Jack shivers, his nails ghosting over Mark’s back, and turns his head to give Mark better access to his neck. It’s so easy to gather his skin between his teeth and clamp down, sucking hard to pull blood to the surface, using Jack’s own body to mark him as Mark’s. He doesn’t break skin, but a wild part of him kind of wants to, just to ensure the impression stays well beyond the bruises fading away.

He draws away before he crosses that line, mouth damp and hovering just above the blooming purple-red bruise on Jack’s pale skin. He’s panting, barely moving his hips anymore, with his own blood roaring in his ears. “Safeword’s just 'stop’,” he rasps out.

“ _Good boy_ ,” Jack murmurs, and gets a better hold on Mark’s collar to hold him in place as he drags his other hand down Mark’s back. It’s like he’s drawing fire across Mark’s skin, hot stinging pain springing up in the wake of Jack’s short nails.

Mark’s spine bows briefly before he gets his mouth back on Jack’s neck to muffle his groans, hips stuttering back into a quick, dirty rhythm that leaves them both breathless. He bites every bit of skin he can reach, trying to alternate between being rough and being gentle so he doesn’t bruise the absolute crap out of Jack.

Jack scratches him again, and Mark leaks on his belly. Jack’s pressing his fingers down, obviously trying to put some extra pressure behind the touch, and it pays off in the way that Mark’s skin flares angry-hot. Jack raises his hips, fucking up against him hard, and scratches him over and over, drawing cross-hatched lines across his naked back like he’s leaving his name in a language only the two of them can read.

“Come fer me,” Jack whispers hotly, yanking hard enough on Mark’s collar that he’d be choking him if he had it from the back instead of the front. Mark fights against Jack’s hold only enough that he can kiss him again, growling into his mouth. “ _Mark_ ,” Jack hisses, dragging his fingers over Mark’s shoulderblade and down across his collarbone, summoning fire along the way, “Fuckin’ _come on me_.”

“Fuck!” Mark groans, back arching, and he pushes his forehead against Jack’s as he comes between them, hard and messy. Jack’s legs both lock tight around his hips, refusing to let him slow his thrusts, and Mark shoves his tongue into his mouth to slur Jack’s screams as Jack twitches and shoots against his stomach.

Jack’s wheezing, so Mark tries to ignore the haze in his brain and plants his palms firmly on the mattress to lift his upper body off of Jack’s. He doesn’t move father than that, though, grinning as he looks down and admires Jack’s red-flushed face, bruised neck, and jizz-splattered stomach and crotch. He’s still got the ears on, though they’re a little bit crushed from Jack grinding his head into the pillows. “Messy kitty,” he coos, and kisses Jack again before Jack can object.

Jack angry meows when Mark finally draws away, then laughs, smothering his own face with his hands. “God, we’re so weird.”

“Have you _seen_ my brother’s comic?” Mark waggles his eyebrows, adding, “Guess it runs in the family.”

“Mark, if you try t’ tell me yer a furry, I’m kicking you out of my hotel room. I’m drawin’ a line at collars an’ costume ears.”

Mark licks his lower lip, fighting back a shit-eating grin. “How about leashes?”

“Okay, leashes too. An’ maybe some _fetch_. I’d love to watch you try catching a tennis ball wit yer teeth,” he snickers. Then he sobers up and rubs at the bruised side of his neck, hickeys already an unmistakable series of dark smudges. “Y’ didn’t leave as many as I figured you would,” he says, and he sounds almost disappointed.

Mark smiles. “We’ve still got all week.”

They’ve got all week for a lot of things, and Mark hopes it’s enough time for all of them, because he has so much more to say. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you _liked_ this fanfiction, punch that kudos button in the face! ;) 
> 
> And as always, I will see you... on [Tumblr](http://septiplier500.tumblr.com/).


End file.
